You ever have one of those nights where everything feels a little… off? Like the world hums in a secret language just beneath your fingertips? That’s what it feels like in the cabin right now. The seatbelt grooves murmur in soft whispers, barely there, slipping into the hush of the atmosphere.
I curl into the spine of my book, fingers tracing ink like shadows pooling beneath them. The overhead lights flicker—once, then twice. The glass beside me shivers, catching stray reflections. Maybe it’s just the window breathing. Maybe it’s something else.
I hope you enjoy this poem inspired by a photo by Douglas 0 on Unsplash.
Secrets of Flight: A Lone Traveler’s Reflection – Poem
Tonight, the cabin hums in secret tones, whispers slithering through seatbelt grooves. A lone traveler, spine curled around ink, words pooling like shadows beneath his fingers.
The lights flicker—one blink, then two, as reflections ripple on polished leather. Is it the window that breathes? Or the ghost of destinations untold?
Outside, the sky twists in golden veins, a storm bottled inside forgotten maps. Engines sing their lullaby of steel, but gravity watches, amused.
The flight attendant never walks this way, her presence dissolving in sterile air. And in the last page turned, the man realizes—
He was never on the manifest. But the plane? The plane was always waiting.
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